Chapter Text
"Monarch." The words left Crimson-1's mouth with an almost tired tone. His plane was spiraling downwards. He had lost, for real this time. He was going to die. "When you hear the thunder." There was a brief pause. "When the storm comes for you." There was another pause, just as brief. "Remember me." Then, there was an explosion. Blindingly bright like the Cordium detonations Monarch had seen in Prospero, and just now, in Presidia. He closed his eyes, turning his head away from the explosion. Monarch nearly took his hands off the joystick, but after a second, Monarch re-opened his eyes, and turned to the explosion. It was just that, another Cordium detonation. Except instead of a missile scorching the land, it was Crimson-1's plane. Crimson-1 must've rigged the plane to blow up if he ever got shot down. The explosion lingered in the air, monarch stared at it as he flew. He was panting. After a couple seconds, the explosion faded away. And then it was just him. Just Monarch in the skies. It was likely that his radar had been damaged in the Cordium explosion, much like what happened in Prospero. But even then, Galaxy started talking after maybe a couple minutes, with Hitman 2 and 3 chirping in immediately. He was alone now.
He was the king now, the king of the skies. But the skies were empty, there was not a soul to rule over. What a wretched coronation. Was there anyone left? Anyone at all? Monarch gave a glance around the cockpit of his VX-23 and began to descend, he was high in the air. He couldn't see much of anything now, in the skies. Monarch inhaled as he slowly dove down. Presidia burned, just like Prospero. He felt something. Was it sadness? Was it hate? Was it dread at what could possibly come next? Monarch didn't know. What he did know was that he felt tears falling from his eyes as he stared at the burnt husk of presidia. His home. For once, perhaps for the first time during the contract, he made a sound, he cried. There was nobody left to hear him. Crying. Sobbing. What was it all for? Was there any reason to it? The death? The destruction? He breathed shakily. He continued to descend. His instruments were still working well enough to tell him there was absolutely 0 chance he had enough fuel by himself to get back to Highway 34. But he went north anyways. Maybe there was another airbase he could land at. Or if push came to shove, he could land on a road or highway.
He laughed, what a fucking day. And the war wasn't even over yet, Kaiser wouldn't let this go, no he would want the federation to burn. Monarch's work wasn't even close to done. To be honest he couldn't really blame Kaiser, after this? After Prospero? He wanted to see the federation burn. Wanted to see its cities turn into glass husks like presidia. Monarch sighed, his laughter ceasing after a couple moments. He gave one last look at presidia, or what once was presidia, before accelerating and leaving the empty airspace. It was a new world out there, and he didn't have that much of a choice in living in it. Monarch continued to descend, he was now about 500 meters above the ground, and had a speed of about 700 kilometers per hour. He wasn't really sure where he was going, other than away from here. For now, that would have to suffice.
He wasn't sure how long it'd been since he'd started flying north, but at least a few hours. It was dark now, and giving a glance at his fuel gauge informed him he was about to run out. Monarch knew for a fact he was still, at least, a few dozen miles from the Aleutians. He hadn't seen any other planes since presidia was glassed. He was well out of range of any radio communications from presidia by now. He wondered if he should've stayed until someone contacted him. He didn't have the fuel to turn back. There was a road, some lonely road that led up north, to his right. It seemed to be empty. This wouldn't be the first time he'd landed on an empty strip of road, this time it was just miles away from anything else. Monarch was going to die out here. Maybe he deserved it, after everything he'd done. Monarch stopped thinking about that and banked right.
Monarch carefully decreased both his speed and altitude, after lowering his landing wheels, as he descended onto the lonely road. It was a bumpy landing, but after maybe 15-30 seconds of movement, the jet came to a halt. Monarch sighed. He really had to piss. He tapped a couple buttons in the cockpit, and the cockpit shield slowly raised. He turned off the engine of the YX-23, before climbing out. It was a noticeable drop, maybe 5 feet. Monarch put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. He realized something else. he had to hurl. Monarch took his hands off his knees then tore off his helmet, tossing it to the ground, he stumbled towards the right, off the road. "Fuck-" He hurled, barely managing to get the cuss out. God he hadn't eaten in hours. He was starving, he was thirsty. He felt like shit. He figured that seeing his hometown being glassed by some maniac had something to do with how shit he was feeling.
Monarch puked for about 1-2 minutes, it felt like an eternity. "Goddamnit-" Monarch groaned. He felt like he was gonna cry again. "Fuck... FUCK!" He did cry again. "GODDAMNIT!" There were tears streaming down his face. "Fuck... it's... it's all gone, goddamnit... FUCK! FUCK!" He took a step back, staring up. The night sky was fucking orange. The ring of fire was... on fire again, wasn't it? "I could've... fuckin'... stopped it, I could've stopped it. Oh god. Oh dust mother. It's over, its all fucking over isn't it?" He was screaming into the void. There was no one else he could scream to. He put his head in his hands. He sobbed into them. He couldn't be silent, not anymore. Not right now. Everything he knew, everyone he knew from before sicario, it was all gone. "I could've stopped it, I could've. It's my fault, oh god... they're all dead, they're all my fault." Monarch weeped. If there was anybody around, anybody at all. They would've heard monarch sobbing.
"FUCK!" He ran his hands through his hair. He was fucked, Cascadia, was fucked, Sicario, was fucked. HE, was fucked. He was going to die out here! Alone, afraid, the last person alive within 100 miles. And it was all his fault. "GODDAMNIT... I can't... ugh, FUCK!" It was hard to think straight, and right now the only thing Monarch could focus on was not pissing himself. So he calmed himself down, or tried to. He gave a quick glance around, and as was expected there wasn't anybody nearby. Still it felt indecent to take ones pants off and piss in the middle of the road, so he would do it off the road. He walked to the right, behind the wheel of the jet and relieved himself, and then did up his pants.
After that quick intermission, Monarch took a few steps back, he panted. There wasn't really much to do, was there? Just wait for someone to arrive, and he was relatively sure someone would. He was the crown, after all. And it was unlikely that every radar in Cascadia had stopped working, so really it was a matter of time. But how much time? Monarch panted, taking couple steps back. He put the back of his head in his hands, then closed his eyes. Then he just... breathed. It was so cold. Which made sense, it was night after all and he was in the middle of some desert. Probably central cascadia. He opened his eyes, staring out into the vast desert. He could've taken a road trip on this very road, years ago. He probably did. "God. Those were the fuckin' days, huh?" He wasn't talking to anyone. Just to himself. "You... you know, when I first... first met Arnold? It was on a place just like this, on some fucking road. Ha." He knew he was talking to nobody, or rather to himself. He'd done it before, he used to do it all the time when he was a kid. It wasn't like there was really anything else to do.
Monarch breathed, he stumbled backwards, and then he fell. "Ow! God-" He hit the back of his head against the bottom of the jet, ending up falling down with his back against the front landing gear. Monarch brought his hand to the back of his head, checking if there was any bleeding. There wasn't, thankfully. Just a bruise. He didn't get up. Not initially. Instead he just sat there, staring out in the desert. He sighed for like the fifth time, and rubbed the back of his head. He could see a cactus. Maybe that was a clue to his destination, maybe. He couldn't sit here forever, he'd have to get into the jet, eventually, but god he really didn't want to do that. Monarch was so fucking tired. He could really just, close his eyes... Fall asleep. It was late wasn't it? Wasn't like the jet was going anywhere. It wasn't like he was going anywhere. So there wasn't any harm in just... closing his eyes, and falling asleep.
It was hard to stay awake. So, why bother? After everything that happened to him? Monarch surely deserved a good rest. He leaned back against the landing wheel, trying to find a comfortable spot. There wasn't any, not really anyways. But it was enough to close his eyes, and fall asleep.